


Citrus Boys

by kixotical



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Boys Kissing, Depressed Noctis Lucis Caelum, Fluff and Angst, Ignis Scientia is a Mom, M/M, Noctis Lucis Caelum Has A Crush, Noctis is a Lemon, Prompto Argentum Has Anxiety, Prompto Argentum Needs a Hug, Prompto Argentum Works at a Convenience Store, Prompto Argentum is a Ray of Sunshine, Prompto is an Orange, no further explanations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-04-23 05:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19144324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kixotical/pseuds/kixotical
Summary: Noctis doesn't want to keep waking up tired every morning.Prompto wants someone to share his photos with.Sometimes, a little sweet and sour can mix in an amazing way.--In which Prompto keeps slipping notes into Noctis's bags at the store, and Noctis doesn't mind in the slightest.





	1. orange

**Author's Note:**

> [Music For This Story](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL1iCP1yRPJA8VqOxWQZaudAIVpeM3DVSJ)
> 
>  
> 
> TBH this is probably some of the most self-indulgent shit I've ever written, but I mean this was really nice to write so
> 
> ~~~~Order of Songs  
>  Prompto  
> Noctis  
> Prompto to Noctis  
> Noctis to Prompto  
> Prompto and Noctis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there once was a bittersweet man and they called him lemon boy  
> he was growing in my garden and i pulled him out by his hair like a weed.

_“I was smiling yesterday, I am smiling today, and I will smile tomorrow. Simply because life is too short to cry for anything.”_

_—Santosh Kalwar_

* * *

Today, Prompto is alive.

Prompto knows he’s alive because he can _feel_ it. He can feel his heart drumming in his chest, begging his legs to run and his mouth to laugh and his cheeks to smile with every pulse of his blood.

He doesn’t know what it is about him that makes him feel this way; where everything is just so much deeper and so much more intense in a way that makes him want to just jump and run and take in as much of it as he can.

He takes deeper breaths, his lungs begging him to do so to compensate for the energy he’s storing up inside every square inch of his body.

Today, Prompto’s blood roars in his ears as the wonders of the world run past him, and Prompto can't help but love and enjoy all of it with every inch of his soul.

Prompto can't do anything about the sunrise; he can only sit back and watch the sun slowly break her head over the hilltops, stretching her milky pink and orange fingers across the sky, breathing violet breaths into the air, and Prompto can only watch.

Prompto can only watch as the bus rumbles along his route to work. And even though there is a bus driver in the front and a woman breastfeeding in the back, Prompto can’t help feeling like the only person awake in the whole world to witness and appreciate the misty magic that descends over the land at dawn.

It’s all so amazing and wonderful, and when his bus rumbles to a stop and Prompto has to walk the rest of the way to work, he takes picture after picture with his simple point-and-shoot camera.

For some reason, Prompto feels that there’s a huge imbalance here; like a simple point-and-shoot camera is too insufficient of a tool to capture the beauty and wonder of the dawn sky. But it’s all he can do, and it makes it feel like it’s too much for him, like all of this is solely for him. Like he’s the soldier, and it’s his job to protect the memory of this moment.

It’s in this moment that Prompto feels his best; that he just wants to tell everyone in the world about how great it is to be alive, and how wonderful it is to just exist and drive and breathe and simply be.

And as Prompto continues along the route to work, he knows that today is going to be great.

He can just feel it.

 

**⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅**

 

Today, Noctis needs to be alive.

He needs to be alive, but unfortunately, he doesn’t want to get out of bed. Consequently, this appears to create a bit of a conundrum.

For a long while, Noctis simply lays there, smothered by the mass that is his blankets in his cluttered room. Ignis hasn’t been able to clean it recently, so Noctis can only lay there in his room bathed in darkness from the light canceling curtains.

Noctis knows it’s morning, because he can hear the birds screaming outside, and with a grunt, he covers his ears with his pillows. Gods he wishes the birds would stop screaming; no one needs to hear how horny the damn birds are at four in the fucking morning.

Noctis groans and draws the blankets over his head, immediately trying to go back to sleep. He closes his eyes, waiting for sleep to come, but sleep doesn’t come. Instead, Noctis’ eyelids become tired and itchy from trying to sleep, and his blanket no longer feels warm and inviting but hot and suffocating; a coffin waiting to be locked.

Noctis throws off his blanket, but even after taking the first step in getting up, he lays there. He lays there, waiting for something to get him up; some energy or reason or needs to just get himself out of bed this morning. Really, he can think of plenty of reasons, but none of them are good enough.

None of them are good enough to get him out of bed; to leave his one safe haven from the world behind and have to face society without a shield. He wants to go back to sleep, and he wants to scream when he realizes that he can’t.

It’s nearly 5:00 when Noctis sees his fishing pole leaning up against his wall, and Noctis thinks of something. He really doesn’t feel like it, not today, not ever recently, but he knows that it’s better than lying in bed doing nothing and wishing for something. Besides, if Ignis comes in and sees him still lying in bed hours later, he’s going to bust a vein.

Half an hour later, Noctis is on his way, driving to the edge of town.

 

**⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅**

 

_Lean down, grab, stand up, place, repeat._

****

The actions are etched into Prompto’s head.

****

_Lean down, grab, stand up, place, repeat._

****

Or maybe not his head. More so his body. Muscle memory and all that.

****

_Lean down, grab, stand up, place, repeat._

****

Prompto thinks he’s come to hate muscle memory.

****

_Lean down, grab, stand up, place, repeat._

****

When he first started working, it was kind of relaxing. The simple action of restocking fruit and letting his mind wander was a nice break from the stress of everyday life.

Now, as the muscles in his back scream with the tension of bending down over and over, and the tediousness of stocking a shelf of fruit wear on him, his picture-taking euphoria from walking to work this morning wears off and there’s nothing else he wouldn’t rather be doing.

****

_Lean down, grab, stand up, place, repeat._

****

Nothing else he wouldn't rather be doing. Is that a double negative? Prompto isn’t sure. English class was never really his thing.

 

_Lean down, grab, stand up, place, repeat._

****

Placing the last orange on the shelf, Prompto takes a step back to admire his handiwork. That is if he could even call it that.

Each orange looks exactly the same, side by side. It looks as though they’re all melting into one shape with no identity of their own. Prompto hates it. Without thinking, he reaches over and grabs an apple from the neighboring shelf, placing it with the oranges.

A single apple in a sea of oranges. Something about it makes the whole thing immensely better; more satisfying to look at.

_Snap._

Before he knows it, Prompto is taking a picture, trying his best to work around the crappy six A.M convenience store lighting.

Prompto doesn’t think there are any real perks to working a shift at CeeZee’s other than a paycheck, especially by himself. Then again, if he looks hard enough, he’s sure he can find some. There’s something surreal about six A.M in an empty convenience store, like his bedroom at 3 A.M or an empty parking lot late at night.

Not how most sophomore-going-on-juniors would spend their Saturday, but considering he’s only had the job for a week, he thinks he’s adjusting pretty well. He was already used to getting up pretty early; he liked doing so because it left more time to do more things.

Besides, no one comes into CeeZee’s at this time. Personally Prompto thinks it’s a waste to have anyone working at this time, but apparently the CeeZee’s CEO or whatever thinks that being open twenty-four hours is good for business.

Never mind that, because having next to no one show up gives Prompto a lot of free time to do basically whatever he wants.

Which is why when the sleek black sports car pulls into the empty parking lot thirty minutes later, Prompto can only watch.

He watches, but his mind explodes in a million different directions. Directions where the driver of the car could possibly a robber, coming to try and take money from the register. If the dude or gal has a gun, Prompto will probably give him the money. He likes his job and all, but he isn’t about to risk his life for a CeeZee’s.

Or maybe it’s his boss, which would be weird because his boss spends most of her time in the big store deeper into Insomnia. Considering this one is on the outskirts, it would be pretty weird for her to drop by, especially at six A.M.

Prompto rushes behind the counter, ducking below the desk to grab the money box. Technically, since he’s supposed to be working the cashier right now, he should have had it out by now. But considering hardly anyone comes in at this time, he’s grown accustomed to leaving it in its place until at least eight or nine.

As Prompto searches for the money box under the counter, more and more possibilities swarm his head, until, by the time someone actually walks in, he’s so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice at first.

When the bell rings, he jumps, which is never a good thing to do when there’s something hovering four inches above your head. Especially when that something is a hard something.

_“Ow!_ Shit…” Prompto mutters, standing up and reaching up to rub his head as daggers of pain stab through his head. It’s probably good that it hurts though—the pain flushes his face red which, thankfully, hides his embarrassment in what he hopes is a successful manner.

“Jeez, sorry about that,” Prompto goes on as he finally locates the money box from under the counter, not yet looking up. Instead, he slams the money box on the counter as he begins rummaging through the various drawers for the key to open it.

“I’m just not used to anyone being in this early—like, it’s what, six A.M? And Saturday? I mean, I’m pretty sure almost everyone is used to being asleep right now. Granted, I know I’m awake right now, but I don’t count. I’m supposed to be working a shift here.” Still not looking up from his business, Prompto nervously rambles on to fill empty space, his tongue a motor in his mouth.

“And like, even if they are up, what are the chances that they’re gonna be going to a CeeZee’s. And even if there is a CeeZee’s, there’s that bigger CeeZee’s in the middle of Insomnia. You’re from Insomnia, right?”

“Yeah.”

Hearing that voice, Prompto freezes. He knows that voice. Hands halfway buried in the third drawer, Prompto’s head snaps up and he sees him.

Spiky jet-black hair, moon-pale skin, and amazingly apathetic. Even without the school uniform and throng of students attracted to his presence, Prompto recognizes him in an instant.

“Hey Prompto,”  he says, giving a small, half-hearted wave. It seems surprisingly casual and anti-climactic for a royal encounter, but Prompto doesn’t mind. He’s been meaning to try talking to Noctis more often. **_  
_ **

“Hey; Prince Noctis! Didn’t think you would stop around here,” Prompto exclaims, surprise splitting a wide grin across his face.

Noctis only shrugs. “Yeah, I didn’t think so either.”

Prompto wants to be friends with Noctis. He really does; he only just worked up the nerve to talk to him yesterday. But they only have one class together; they don’t even have the luxury of sharing lunch periods. There are really only a few times when the two of them can talk or hang out or even anything along those lines.

It’s hard to believe that they’ve been in the same schooling system for years. It seems like every memory Prompto has of Prince Noctis always involves Noctis on the outskirts, untouchable and out of reach. Like some sort of monument.

Wait, not a monument. The word monument sounds pretentious, and Noctis is far from pretentious. More like an obelisk. It’s just as great as a monument, but the word obelisk more subtle. More discreet. Like it’s trying to draw your attention away from it, but at the same time only piquing your curiosity.

Now isn’t the time to think about that right now, though. Right now, Prompto is leaning across the counter, watching Prince Noctis walk around the store, eyes and fingers grazing the merchandise.

It’s so strange, it almost doesn’t seem real. The crown prince of Lucis, wordlessly dropping into a CeeZee’s at six A.M. It would be odd for anyone, but for some reason, the fact that it’s the prince makes it even odder.

The long winding road stretching outside the window and the seemingly endless forest beyond that serve as a constant reminder of just how far CeeZee’s is from the rest of Insomnia. The store is just close enough to be part of the city, but just far enough that people only come out here if it’s on the way to something else and they’re making a pit stop.

Which, in turn, reminds Prompto of how isolated he and Noctis are. Usually, it just feels like him, Prompto, isolated from the rest of society, but now it’s become him and Noctis, isolated from the rest of society. Prompto feels like he needs some time to think about how he feels about this.

“Alright; I’ve gotta ask,” Prompto says when the silence has finally stretched far too long and his curiosity is screaming. “What are you looking for, man? Chips or something? Cause I mean, if you came all the way out here for some chips, you’re gonna be pretty disappointed—”

“I’m looking for fishing stuff.”

It could partly be because the way Prince Noctis said it was so blunt, or partly because Prompto thinks he could have misheard him, but for whatever the reason, Prince Noctis’ answer catches Prompto off guard.

“Hm?” Prompto says, unable to hide the quizzical look that passes over his face.

Noctis turns around, now looking at Prompto. “Fishing stuff. I was gonna go fishing this morning,” he says simply. “You’ve heard of fishing before, right?”

“What? I mean, uh, yeah, of course, I have! Tons of fishing! I live for fishing! Fishing runs through my blood _._ ” It feels like the longer Prompto goes on, the more elaborate his fishing lies get.

Noctis doesn’t say anything. Instead, he only watches Prompto ramble on, slowly tying his own noose.

With a small smirk, Noctis turns back to the shelf, gazing over the rows and rows of fishing lines. “Ah, okay. Nice to know you like fishing,” he says with a small scoff. “What’s your favorite kind of fishing line to use?”

“Um...the long kind?”

Prompto could actually kick himself right now.

The corners of Noctis’ mouth move up to reveal a small grin, and then he chuckles. He actually chuckles _._ It’s an odd, surreal, supernatural experience similar to encounters with the dead, completely opposite to the reaction Prompto was expecting

“Woah! Ladies and gentlemen, do my eyes deceive me? Did the high Prince Noctis, crown prince of Lucis, beloved son of King Regis himself, just _smile?_ In _my store?”_ Prompto declares the words as though he’s a village crier, speaking in a voice that’s loud and orotund.

“Haha, very funny,” Noctis says, going back to looking over the merchandise.

Prompto shrugs, looking away from Noctis and fiddling with his fingers. He can’t quite remember when he started doing that; it always has just seemed like a nervous habit; something he does when he’s thinking faster than his mouth can go or speaking faster than his brain can go. And right now, he’s trying to figure out a way out of the pothole he believes he’s just worked himself into.

“Sorry man,” Prompto finally says with an unintentional smile. “I just wouldn’t associate the Prince of Lucis with fishing and all. I-I mean, it just seems like you would be doing more...”

“Princely things?” Noctis suggests.

“Yeah! Exactly! Princely things,” Prompto exclaims. “Do you have like, a huge room and a bunch of servants and papers to sign and a million royal summits and stuff?”

“Mmm...I’m pretty sure my dad does a lot of that. I won’t actually be doing a lot of that stuff ‘til I’m king,” Noctis says, stifling a yawn.

Prompto would never admit it, but hearing Noctis casually referring to the prince of Lucis as “dad” is both weird and cool on so many different levels.

Finally finding what he’s looking for, Noctis stands up, walking over to the cash register and placing his things on the counter. Looking down, Prompto sees he only bought two things: a super baleen line, and some sort of device resembling a Chocobo.

“Whoa, what’s this?” Prompto exclaims, eyes going wide at the sight of the chocobo device. Looking back on his initial reaction, he would want to stab his past self in the foot, but right now at this moment, his electric blue eyes are huge and his fingers are fiddling with the chocobo device placed on the counter.

“Oh yeah, big fishing nut,” Noctis says with a chuckle. Prompto gives a playful glare and scoffs.

“Come on dude, really; what is this?” Prompto insists.

Noctis shakes his head, smiling. “It’s a poppeck chocobo.” When Prompto responds with a blank look, Noctis goes on.

“It’s a type of fishing lure,” Noctis explains. “It’s like...it’s supposed to look like a chocobo, and when you put it in the water, fish swim towards it, and like...I don’t know, it just attracts fish.”

“Really? But like, wouldn’t the sight of a chocobo scare them away? Cause like, chocobos eat fish and all. I mean, it would be counterproductive. But it’s _not,_  because it obviously works.” Prompto can feel himself doing it again; the thing where he starts thinking faster than his mouth can handle. He realizes it as soon as the words slip past his lips, and he realizes just how fast he’s speaking.

However, before he can apologize, Noctis chuckles. He chuckles  _again._ Glancing at the clock mounted on the wall, Prompto realizes that he’s made the prince laugh  _twice_ in the past five minutes. Granted, he was laughing _at_ Prompto, but it’s not malicious like most of what he’s used to.

Instead, it’s more lighthearted. Amused, in a way. Prompto decides that he likes this kind of laugh. Grinning back, Prompto quickly swipes the chocobo over the checker-outer-thing of which he was never certain of the name, making sure it beeps before he goes back to inspect it.

“I’m gonna guess that you really like chocobos,” Noctis says, leaning forward so that his forearms are folded lazily on the counter.

Prompto scoffs. “Chocobos and machines and stuff. You sure that was just a guess?” He jokes, and Noctis shrugs in response.

“Not exactly,” he says, nodding his head at something behind Prompto. Looking away from the poppeck chocobo for just a moment, Prompto notices his backpack: bright yellow with black stripes, a dozen chocobo plushies hanging from the zippers.

Fire explodes in Prompto’s cheeks when he sees them. He always liked his chocobo plushies; he even named every single one of them. Now though, at this moment when he’s alone with the prince and trying to make a good impression, all he sees them being is childish.

“What? Those? Oh, um...those aren’t mine!” Prompto blurts out, the gears in his brain scrambling for a plausible excuse.

Noctis gives him a look that Prompto can’t exactly place. “Really?” He says, arching a single dark eyebrow.

“Yeah, really!” Prompto confirms, nodding his head a little more vigorously than needed.

“Oh, I see,” Noctis says, and for a moment Prompto is left standing in bewildered disbelief, wondering if he actually pulled it off.

Then, Noctis goes on. “So that kid walking around school with that backpack and those chocobos is just your twin brother?”

Dammit. Prompto knows he’s never been the best liar, but since Noctis already knows the truth, Prompto figures he might as well just lean into it.

Prompto continues fiddling with the poppeck, looking up every now and then to give Noctis a smirk. “Oh yeah, totally. His name’s Mopto.”

“Mopto?”

“Yep; we don't have any classes together, so you’ll probably never see us in the same room.”

“Ah, alright,” Noctis says, nodding along as though this makes perfect sense. “So was it Mopto or Prompto that I talked to on Friday?”

“Mmm...probably Prompto,” Prompto says after looking as though he’s putting real effort into remembering this important piece of information.

As he speaks, Prompto bites the insides of his cheeks: a trick he taught himself when he’s trying not to smile. He’s learned the hard way that smiling when you shouldn’t be smiling usually doesn't lead to anything good, especially when it's for something important.

Prompto considers not smiling like an idiot in front of the prince to be something immensely important.

“Okay, okay,” Noctis says, nodding along. “So who am I talking to now?”

“You know, I want to say Prompto, but I really can't be sure. I mean, who knows? Maybe this isn’t Prompto or Mopto. Maybe I’m just a hologram.”

“If you’re just a hologram, then how are you holding my poppeck?” Noctis prompts.

To this, Prompto can only shrug. “I’m a very...palpable hologram.”

“Haha, very funny. You know I still have to go fishing, and I’m losing darkness here, so…” Noctis says with a smirk, drumming his fingers on the counter.

As soon as Noctis mentions this, Prompto’s head shoots up, eyes rushing to the window. The pale blue of an early morning sky assaults his eyes, and instantly his brows snap up.

“Shit man; I’m sorry! Got kinda distracted there, you know?” Prompto fumbles through his words, scrambling desperately for an apology as he begins to shove the poppeck chocobo into a plastic bag along with the fishing line, handing it to Noctis as fast as he can manage.

Even so, Noctis takes the bag with a shrug. “It's cool.”

And with that, Noctis is at the door.

However, just as he places one foot outside, he stops. “And uh...I can look into how that poppeck chocobo works if you want.”

“Hm? Oh don’t worry about it; I’m sure I can figure it out,” Prompto insists with a grin, and Noctis shrugs again.

“Alright, if you say so.”

And as Prompto watches the prince walk outside to his car, he notices a faint smile spread between the prince’s lips.

 

**⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅**

****

_“Argh!_ I’m telling you guys; I was so _stupid!”_

Prompto’s groans echo loudly through the empty park, ricocheting off of the surrounding brick buildings and shooting skyward into the open air.

“Really, I mean _‘I thought you would be doing more princely stuff?’_ Gods, I bet I sounded so  _obnoxious_ _!”_

With a loud, wounded moan, Prompto buries his head in his hands, falling backward onto the shortly trimmed grass. It stabs and itches on the back of his neck, but right now, Prompto doesn’t care. His stomach is still churning at his last encounter with the prince, he wouldn’t mind if the ground suddenly cracked open and swallowed him whole.

At least underground he wouldn’t have time to think about his shift at CeeZee’s that morning. He felt like he kept smiling the whole time, and he bet he acted so _annoying._ Who says to the prince that "his actions aren't  _princely_ enough?" The more he plays the scene over and over in his head, the more he seems like those kids at school who swarm around Noctis like moths to a light; only this time with a dash of annoying added in oh-so-discreetly. Thinking back to how he acted about chocobos makes him want to retch his guts out; Noctis either thinks he's stupid, annoying, a suck-up, or all of the above.

He had never been the best at paying attention, but for the rest of his shift, his focus had completely reset.

He filled up the slushie machines with the wrong flavors, his mind kept wandering when he worked on fixing the fritzy soda dispenser, and he was pretty sure he had given a bunch of people more change back than he owed. 

All the while he ranted about this, his audience of ducks and geese watched inattentively with beady black eyes, keeping their attention fixated on the bread in his hand.

“Ugh, and I kept smiling like an idiot the _whole time_ —like, can you guys imagine?”

The only response Prompto gets is the hissing of a goose when he doesn’t give out the bread fast enough.

“Jeez, chill out Remus—don’t you want your kids to eat first?” Prompto says, ripping off a chunk of break and throwing it far past the goose he called Remus. The bread lands at the feet of a trio of goslings, not young enough to be considered babies but not yet old enough to be full-fledged geese.

Their wings aren’t fully developed, little bits of baby fluff sticking out, and they haven’t developed the stripe that geese have over their eyes. It looks like someone took the head of a baby and put it on the body of an adult.

Prompto sighs, stretching his legs out in front of him as he watches two of the not-quite-goslings-but-not-quite-geese fight over the single piece of bread piece. The third one takes a tentative snap but is quickly chased off when one of his siblings hisses at him and instead waddles off to float in the water.

Prompto knows he’s a lot more confident than he was in middle school. Thinking back on it, he looks at his middle school years and cringes. Seventh-grade Prompto was an absolute nightmare, but he likes to think that as a sophomore going on junior, he’s grown a lot more.

Granted, most of the time he still feels like the seventh grader who ate lunch in the library and did nothing but takes photos and eat junk food, but now he thinks that he just hides it much better than before.

Getting up, Prompto goes to the edge of the pond, where the lone not-quite-goose-not-quite-gosling swims by himself, kicking up ripples in his path.

Ripping off another piece of bread, Prompto throws it into the water, watching it soak and expand as the bird curiously swims closer, snapping the food up in his beak.

Prompto throws the next piece closer to him, and the next piece after that, until the somewhat-goose is practically on top of him.

Putting some bread in his palm, Prompto holds it out and watches the little bird eat the bread straight from his palm, giving small, soft honks as he does so.

Prompto has never been much of a nature-man, but birds are different. They’re not the big, huge, rip-your-face-off animals, and while some of them can be mean as sin, Prompto loves coming out here during the spring and summer to sneak a peek at their goslings, slowly watching them grow into full-fledged geese.

And so, as the somewhere-between-gosling-and-goose nibbles on the bread from his hand, Prompto looks down at him with clear blue eyes and smiles.

“Heh. I think I’ll call you Strider,” he says, wanting desperately to pet the not-so-gosling-or-goose and ruffle his feathers, but he already knows he’s pushing his luck by having Strider eat out of his hand. He doesn’t want to ruin the moment.

“I don’t know, man. What do you think I should do?” He asks,  taking a bite from his orange and feeling the sweet juices run across his tongue, momentarily curing his woes. It’s probably for the best that eating the orange is therapeutic because the only words of comfort he gets from Strider are a blink and a head cock.

"Then again, I don't think you'll give the best advice when it comes to relationships and friendships and stuff,” Prompto says with a small, light-hearted scoff. “I mean, like, I heard geese mate for life, but don’t you fight and scream at each other over mates during your mating season?”

If geese could shrug, Prompto is sure that this one would have done it. Strider lifts and ruffles his feathers, wiggling his neck as he does so. Truth be told, Prompto knows it’s not a shrug, but he chooses to believe that it is because then it feels like he actually has someone to talk to who listens to him.

“I think some other birds have pretty good tips, though,” Prompto continues. “I mean, apparently a lot of tropical birds put together dances and stuff.”

At that, Prompto immediately thinks of himself dressed up in a flamboyant toucan costume, shimmying all over the school hallway in an attempt to win Noctis’ attention. When he does, he just about bursts out laughing, doubling over himself at the sheer thought of it.

However, when he does Strider backs up a bit, startled. Prompto instantly snaps back to attention. “No no, wait! I still have food,” he insists, throwing a fat chunk of bread at the gosling-goose.

Strider nibbles at it, but still keeps his distance from Prompto, causing Prompto to sigh, but continue their so-called “conversation.”

“Then again, I heard that chocobos do this one thing where they all bring gifts like food or something to the mate they want, and I think that works pretty well.”

Just then, Prompto’s mouth stops as a light-bulb in his head turns on.

And then he has an idea.

A grin splits Prompto’s cheeks as he suddenly shoots up from his seat on the grass. “Strider, you’re a genius!” He cries over his shoulder as he sprints up the hill and out of the park, back to his house to find some notebook paper and a pen.

****

**⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅**

****

On Monday, Noctis finds a note attached to his locker.

 

_Hey Noctis!_

_Sorry about the whole CeeZee’s thing; I didn’t mean to be rude or make you late to your whole fishing thing! Can you be late to that? I don’t know if that’s really something you can be late to unless you were going to a fishing competition, but I think if it was I would have seen a few more cars passing by. This is Prompto, by the way!_

_Anyways, I just wanted to say that it was really nice to have met you! We don’t have a lot of classes together, but I wouldn’t mind if you stopped into the store from time to time._

_How about this: if you answer this question and bring it back to the store, you can get a free something from the store. Sound cool, right?_

_Here’s the question: what was the name of your childhood pet? Simple question; you don't have to answer it if you don't want to, just thought it would be cool._

_Sincerely, Prompto_

****

Noctis reads Prompto’s letter, and he smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> above lyrics from [lemonboy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-itZVX-SUkI&list=PL1iCP1yRPJA8VqOxWQZaudAIVpeM3DVSJ&index=3) by [cavetown](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpLqtJdfhVv58cPFhRzWJlg)  
> art by [quenenie](https://twitter.com/quenenie)
> 
> \--
> 
> hey guys! thanks for checking this little fic out; if you liked it, I would really appreciate it if you would drop a kudos and a comment! thanks for checking out my stuff, and keep an eye out for the next two chapters!


	2. lemon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lemon boy and me started to get along together  
> i helped him plant his seeds and we'd mow the lawn in bad weather

_“We sometimes think we want to disappear, but all we really want is to be found.”_

_—Nikhil Sharma_

* * *

Noctis would remember a lot of things about talking with Prompto, but the thing he remembers most are his eyes. ****  
** **

And he knows how cheesy it is to throw out some shit like that, but it's true. Noctis hasn’t seen Prompto a lot, but no matter when Noctis sees Prompto, he's always so intense, like there's an electric fire raging inside his mind. He holds a million souls in the back of his head, and all of them are untamed and passionate. ****  
** **

One moment Prompto is the quiet kid in his English class, looking out the window with a faraway expression and chuckling quietly to himself for reasons Noctis doesn't know. Then the next he's running up to him to introduce himself and slap his back in the school courtyard after school. ****  
** **

Noctis isn't sure he understands Prompto very well yet, but on Saturday he was introduced to three new Promptos: flustered Prompto, joking Prompto, and excited Prompto. He’s happy to say that he enjoyed meeting all three of them. ****  
** **

Noctis thinks about Prompto a lot while he fishes later on that same Saturday morning. He’s not going to lie, it’s a great day for fishing. Late spring in Lucis is churning out scorching waves of heat, but this morning, while the sun is still low in the sky and white clouds are able to drift lazily over a pale blue sky, the air is cool and refreshing. Each breath feels like a splash of water to Noctis’s lungs. ****  
** **

The massive lake seems to stretch on infinitely before him; probably why it’s called Infinity Lake. The great oak trees surrounding the lake stretch their long old limbs overhead into the big blue sky. Gazing up at them, Noctis remembers something Ignis told him about oak trees taking hundreds of years to reach their full size.

Just that alone makes this place feel ancient and archaic. Not necessarily in a bad way, but in a way that makes this place feel special. So much more than the ancient relics of the palace or anything, but in a way that feels natural. It’s majestic and regal in all in an unintentional way. ****  
** **

Coming here, Noctis likes to feel that he’s part of that. It’s probably why he drove all this way to go fishing when there were a few perfectly good fishing ponds much closer to Lucis. ****  
** **

And so, as the Infinity Lake ripples and the great old oak trees say hello to the world, Noctis sits on his dock and fishes. ****  
** **

It's one of the few things away from a screen that Noctis actually enjoys. For a long, long time, it was the one thing he always looked forward to: getting some time alone in his lake, spending the day fishing. A break from the palace, from training, from being a prince, from _him._ Here, he felt as though he could escape himself, and no longer be Prince Noctis, but simply Noctis. ** **  
****

He’s been fishing a lot recently. Ever since he turned fifteen, no one at the palace has so much as hesitated to remind Noctis of his future: how the kingdom will one day be in his hands, how the rule and prosperity of this kingdom will all be up to him. All the decisions he’ll make, the things he’ll take responsibility for—basically everything that’s riding on him.

Coincidentally, Noctis moved to his own apartment this year. ****  
** **

The only person who regularly visits him is Ignis, and Noctis thinks that’s partly because Ignis doesn’t completely trust Noctis to live on his own. He made a big deal about him moving out, and now every nearly every day after he finishes Crownsguard training, he comes out to the apartment to check on Noctis and make him meals. ****  
** **

Noctis usually tells Ignis that he doesn’t have to do all that—that between school, Crownsguard training, and checking up on Noctis, his plate is full and he needs to take off one of those things. ****  
** **

But in all honesty, Noctis is secretly relieved when Ignis insists on keeping his schedule the way it is. He knows he shouldn’t, and he feels like it’s selfish, but despite knowing Ignis has so much other stuff to do, Noctis enjoys it when Ignis comes to visit him. ****  
** **

He would never tell him, but between Ignis, sometimes Gladio, and very rarely his dad, Noctis feels like Ignis is the only one he has to talk to. It’s been like that for a long time, longer than he can remember. ****  
** **

And it’s fine. He knows it is; that’s how his whole life has been. ****  
** **

Even so, Noctis’s mind keeps drifting back to his stop at CeeZee’s. **  
**

It’s stupid to keep thinking about it this much, and Noctis knows it. He doesn’t want to keep dedicating so much thought to that one little interaction when he knows Prompto has probably already moved on to something else. **  
**

Even so, he can’t help it. His mind keeps drifting back to it, to _him,_ and the oddness of the morning and the oddness of Prompto and the feeling that he left the store with that he can’t exactly place, even now.

Noctis wasn't sure he had ever seen anyone that passionate about _anything._ He knew Ignis loved cooking a lot, but he didn't show it in the same way that Prompto did.

When Prompto got excited about the chocobo, it's like his whole essence lit up. His eyes glowed, his shoulders bounced, his cheeks flushed red. Gods, his _freckled_ cheeks flushed red.

His freckles were a sprinkling of cinnamon across his face, glowing every time he smiled, and he smiled a _lot._ Noctis could clearly tell when Prompto was trying not to smile, but sometimes a quick one would shoot up like a sunflower finally blooming. When it did so, it lit up everything around it, easily and effortlessly.

Noctis realized that he liked it when Prompto smiled.

Suddenly, his fishing line bobbed under the water as a fish finally latched on and tugged at the line. Noctis’s arm jerked forward, bringing him back to reality with it.

Twisting his arm as quickly as he could, Noctis shook his head. Gods, what was he thinking? He sounded creepy. And weird. He had never bothered to think about anyone else like that, so why start now? He bet if Prompto heard him thinking like this, he would be scared off before they even had the chance to talk again. **  
**

Face growing cold again, Noctis began working to reel the fish back to land. As he did so, reality slowly began to reach its spindly fingers back inside Noctis’s head, whispering quiet musings into his ear.

What was wrong with him? He was the prince. It was a title that followed him everywhere, an unwanted shadow that clung to him relentlessly. He couldn't escape it, no matter how hard he tried. And of course, Noctis knew better than anyone how hard it was to simply hang out with someone and feel _normal_ whenever a title like that followed you everywhere.

Besides, Prompto hardly seemed like the type to be interested in princely things. He seemed like he would be into...Noctis didn’t know, normal teen things. Drive-ins and parties and late-night texting and shit. Noctis bet Prompto had a lot of friends who he went right to texting when Noctis left, and his name hadn’t crossed Prompto’s mind since.

Noctis’s fingers tighten around his fishing pole as he yanks the fish out of the water. It explodes from the water in a crystalline burst, silver water-stroked scales gleaming in the morning sunlight. An alstor bass; something he easily could catch closer to the city. When Noctis pulls the floundering fish out of the water, he doesn’t feel a rush of satisfaction like he used to. Instead, he feels nothing towards the fish. Nothing at all. The need to fish that he had this morning has been replaced with something else—a newer, bitter feeling.

A bitter feeling that wraps around his chest, limiting his vision and fills him up like sand. Noctis’s limbs feel heavy the same way they did in bed this morning, weighed down by something out of his control.

Limply tossing the fish back into the waters, Noctis feels a sudden rush of pointless-ness from this. Why is he even doing this? Simply to catch a fish and toss it back? The onslaught of new feelings hits Noctis like a freight train, and this place no longer feels archaic and magical like it used to. It feels colossal and lonely, like all it’s doing is waiting for him, the intruder, to leave.

It’s the same way he felt about fishing for so long, but—Noctis doesn’t know; he just kind of hoped that this time, things would be different. And for a minute, they were.

But now, reality has wrapped its fingers back around Noctis, dragging him back down to earth. He didn’t know why he thought he might be able to hang out with this kid in the first place. He forgot that he’s too much of an outsider in the grand scheme of things—too royal to be a normal kid, but not acting royal enough to gain respect from most of the castle workers.

It’s just him, and it’s always going to be him.

Noctis checks his phone. Six missed calls from Ignis. Probably about “where on earth he is” and how “he’s supposed to be training with Gladio this morning.”

Noctis doesn’t feel like calling him back. Not that he could, considering the lack of cell service way out here.

He doesn’t want to go back to his dark, cluttered apartment, or to the castle. But then again, not as if he has anywhere else to go.

And so, Noctis climbs in the car and braves the roads home by himself.

 

**⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅**

 

By Monday, Noctis has tried to convince himself that Prompto isn’t worth his time.

All through muddling his way through the weekend, Noctis has tried to tell himself that Prompto is probably a jerk anyways: he was just trying to get close to Noctis to be able to say he was friends with the prince like half the other people Noctis has met. For some reason, Noctis feels like that would make the whole reality of princely-issues with friends a lot easier to handle.

But the worst part of all of this is that Noctis can’t make himself believe that. Not at all. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t attribute laughing, intense, glowing, sincere Prompto with someone who’s a jerk.

Unfortunately, that only makes it all even harder, because then it doesn’t feel like it’s the other person’s fault that he doesn’t have a friend. Now, Noctis feels more like it’s his fault because while everyone else is off getting on with their lives and having a great time, he’s here.

He’s still here, stuck in the same rut he’s been in since forever.

Noctis is still in the same sour mood he’s been in all weekend when he sees the note Prompto left attached to his locker.

Noctis reads it over once. Twice. He flips it to the back, even holds it up to the light, searching for some kind of hidden message or meaning to it.

There’s none. It’s just a letter, left by the boy sitting three seats away from him in English class. The boy who’s entire essence shone like a lightbulb. The boy who bothered to take the time to come up and greet him in the courtyard.

The boy who, as it turns out, did think about him over the weekend. He thought about him over the weekend, enough to write him a letter and stick it to his locker.

Reading through the letter again, Noctis realizes that it’s just as wild and scattered as Prompto is, ending in something unexpected and exciting at the same time, just like Prompto.

Noctis looks down at the letter, and he smiles. **  
**

 

**⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅**

 

On Tuesday at 4:15 P.M, Noctis walks into CeeZee’s with a folded piece of paper sticking out his pocket.

The place isn’t much more active than it was when he came in here at six A.M, which does nothing more than remind Noctis of how far out this place is from the rest of Lucis. For a moment, he wonders why Prompto would work here when it would obviously be easier for him to work at the one deeper in Lucis.

Even so, Noctis walks up to the counter, but the person there isn’t Prompto. It’s a girl much older than him, probably in college, with short purple hair and so many piercings in her face than Noctis wonders if she can even go through the metal detectors at airports.

Hands stuffed into his pockets, Noctis can’t help looking around the girl, in search of a glimpse of blond hair or a flash of blue eyes. However, the girl catches on quick and instead arches a single eyebrow.

“Can I _help_ you?” She mutters, her voice dead and dripping with annoyance. Realizing how odd he must look, coming up to the counter and not saying anything, Noctis finally turns his attention towards her.

“Uh...yeah,” Noctis grumbles, slowly turning towards the girl. “Is there a Prompto here right now?”

“Argentum?” The girl confirms, then bites her black lipstick-coated lips together before shaking her head. “Nah, he’s not here yet. Usually runs late anyways,” she mumbles, and digging into her pocket and taking out a cigarette before lighting it on the spot. “Want a puff?”

“Uh, no thanks,” Noctis denies, thinking about the vein that would pop in Ignis’s head if he found out Noctis smoked a cigarette. “And when Prompto comes in, could you give this to him?”

Reaching into his pocket, Noctis places his fingers around the folded piece of paper, preparing to pull it out, thinking that he can just come back tomorrow. Oddly enough, he’s a little disappointed. He doesn’t know why. It’s not like this is some big event or anything; it’s just something that Prompto thought would be cool to do.

Still, even so.

However, just as he’s about to pull it out and set it on the counter, the bell by the door abruptly rings, and Noctis turns to see Prompto, rushing in as though all of Niflheim is on his heels.

Twigs and leaves are tangled in his hair, dirt smeared on his face. On his right cheek, there’s a thin scratch with dried blood lighting it up like a neon sign. But amidst all this, Prompto’s eyes are wild with exhilaration, and his cheeks are the same sunflower smile Noctis saw when he first came in here.

Noctis notices it right away, and it stops him dead in his tracks. He can feel his heart thumping against his sternum but he doesn’t know why.

The cashier sees Prompto, however, and isn’t quite so charmed. “Oh my gods, Argentum, where the hell have you been? My shift ended half an hour ago,” she complains, already grabbing her bag, which is studded with silver spikes. Not the fabric ones made to look like spikes, but real, actual spikes.

Noctis doesn’t say anything. Instead, he stands there watching. He watches Prompto’s face, smiling red from whatever he was doing, and almost seems to watch the smile fall in slow motion as Prompto realizes what time it is.

The look of dread on his face is palpable, and quickly, he whips towards the cashier. “Sorry, Astrid! I was on my way, I swear! I mean, I got kinda distracted, but like—”

“Well—” the girl called Astrid interrupts, stepping from behind the counter with her bag over her shoulder. Standing up, she’s actually very tall and towers over Prompto with a gaze that screams with the fury of Nilheim. Leaning town, she pokes two fingers into his chest.“—try to get _less_ distracted.” **  
**

The venom dripping from her voice is apparent, and as she steps through the door, she calls over her shoulder, “Stop pulling this shit, Argentum. It gets old real quick.” With that, she’s out the door, the bell giving an ironically cheerful jingle in her wake. Noctis’s eyebrows furrow together as he watches her go.

There seem to be a good five seconds before Prompto notices Noctis standing there. As soon as Astrid leaves, he sighs and moves to step behind the counter.

As he does so, he sees Noctis standing there in his school uniform, buttoned up blazer and steel blue necktie still fastened around his neck.

Prompto’s eyes go wide when he sees him. “Noctis!” He exclaims, jumping a bit when he sees him. Giving a nervous smile, Prompto reaches up to scratch the back of his head, then seems to feel the twigs sticking out of it as his face turned a shade of red that would make a tomato jealous. “Wow, uh...sorry about that! How long were you standing there?”

Noctis only shrugs. “Long enough.” Curiously, he glances at the door where the cashier called Astrid left. As of right now, he’s decided that he doesn’t like her very much. “Is she always like that?”

Prompto’s head cocks to one side. “Who, Astrid?” He shrugs. “Yeah, but I mean it’s no big deal! Just coworkers, you know?” He insists.

Noctis bites his lip, doubt poking at him but not quite breaking the surface. Even so, he doesn’t say any more. “Alright then, man, if you say so.” **  
**

With that, Noctis takes the paper out of his pocket, placing it on the desk. “I read your note by the way.”

“Oh, you did?” Prompto exclaims, ringing his hands together as he rolls back and forth on his heels. Noctis can practically see the nervous energy sparking off of him like electricity.

“Yeah, and don’t worry about it. You weren’t rude,” Noctis says with a shrug that he hopes comes off as indifferent.

The relief that comes off of Prompto is almost palpable, but just as much so is the fact that he’s trying not to show it. His shoulders roll back, his chest rises in a sigh—his entire body just ripples with the effects of it, and once again Noctis is reminded of how intense this boy is, and how strange yet charming it is.  
  
“Oh, great man! That’s great!” Prompto exclaims, flashing a smile that he forgets to hide. “And also—” reaching into the counter, Prompto pulls out a bag. “—I have here, your prize.”

With a grand, exaggerated bow from Prompto that makes Noctis chuckle a little, Noctis looks inside the plastic CeeZee’s bag to find a packet of gum, a can of soda, and a poppeck chocobo—but not the kind they sell in stores.

“Check it out—I figured out how that poppeck chocobo thing works over the weekend!” Prompto announces, leaning over the counter. “I bought one and took it apart after you left, and apparently I think poppecks are supposed to kick up water to look like it’s splashing around to look like fish so that it attracts larger fish.”

“Only thing is, that didn’t make sense because this one was a chocobo, but then I did a little research, and apparently larger fish will actually _eat_ chocobo chicks—so to make it more effective, I made some improvements over the weekend!”

Inspecting the device, Noctis takes it out of the bag and shifts it around in his hands. It’s still in the shape of a poppeck, but now a spindly pair of legs sticking out from the bottom, and when Noctis pushes on it, they rotate like bicycle pedals to look like legs swimming through water.

Messing around with the wings, he sees that they now flip up and down. Prompto beams as Noctis looks it over.

“The wings and feet move to propel it when water moves through this—” he gestures to a grate in the chocobo’s butt, “—and then it can go for a super long time! And check this out!”

Leaning forward, Prompto wraps his hands around the chocobo poppeck, and instantly everything snaps to a close, forming a torpedo shape for the fish to fully wrap it’s mouth around.

“Yep man—this one is way more durable, and looks _tons_ more realistic. You should get a bunch of bait for sure!”

“Wow...you really made this?”

“Yep! Well...modified it. It was bugging me all weekend, and then once I figured it out I had all these ideas for it, and then I couldn’t sit down once I thought of them and like...you know how it is!”

Actually, Noctis didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he had ever felt like that once. Or at least, not in a long time.

Now, he takes a moment to look at Prompto—like, really look at him. The spaces under his eyes are darkened ever-so-slightly, as though he was up all night. His eyes are rimmed with red but blazing with fire, as though he’s exhilarated in spite of no sleep.

Noctis cocks his head to the side ever so slightly. He doesn’t think he’s met someone like Prompto before. He feels like he needs some time to think over how he feels about that.

“...huh. That’s pretty cool, man. Like, actually,” Noctis says, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

At Noctis’s compliment, Prompto looks so surprised, it’s as though he’s been physically taken aback. His electric blue eyes widen as he takes a few steps backward, face flushing red underneath his freckles.

“Pfft...I mean, it was nothing! Not like it really matters anyway. Just kinda do it for fun! It’s like playing video games or taking pictures or something!”

Prompto rubs the back of his neck as he talks, looking away from Noctis as though embarrassed. For a moment, Noctis cocks his head. He wouldn’t peg Prompto as the type to get embarrassed easily, but then again, he only just got to know him.

Noctis’s brows furrow together. “Man, who told you that shit? I think it’s pretty cool—” **  
**

And then Noctis’s phone rings in his pocket. In any other case, he would have ignored it. However, his phone had rung about nine times on the way over here, and Noctis had ignored each and every one of them.

Now though, he could see his phone beginning to blow up with texts from Ignis, and he knew that if he stayed here any longer, he would have hell to pay when he got back.

He knew it probably would have been better to tell Ignis where he was going, and he wishes he had some big reason for why he didn’t, but the truth is simply that he didn’t feel like it.

He figured he would just be able to explain it to Ignis when he got back, but now he got the feeling that Ignis wouldn’t want to hear it.

“—shit. Okay, I’ve actually got to go—I’m supposed to be somewhere right now.”

For a moment, the smile melts off of Prompto’s face, but covers it up just as soon as it appeared.. “...oh. I mean, oh, that’s cool! That’s cool! Yeah, that’s fine! Talk to you later!”

“See ya, man.”

Noctis is halfway out the door when he stops. His hand grasps the black mental handle, shoe already firmly placed on the concrete, but he freezes in his tracks. He knows if he takes any longer Ignis will have his ass—and probably Gladiolus too since he’s supposed to be training him—but he figures a few more moments couldn’t hurt. There’s something he just remembered.

“And why do you have all that dirt on you anyway?” Noctis asks with a small chuckle. Turning his head around to face Prompto he sees Prompto’s face flush once again. Noctis realizes that Prompto blushes a lot.

“What? Oh, uh…” Prompto says, suddenly shifting his weight from foot to foot as though embarrassed. Reaching up, he begins to self-consciously pluck twigs from his hair, as though he just remembered they were there.

“This is nothing! I was just taking some pictures and stuff!” **  
**

“What, in a tree?” Noctis chuckles, and after that, Prompto seems to visibly loosen. He takes his hands away from plucking his hair, and instead looks up at Noctis for a long moment before giving a sly smile.

“Maybe…” Prompto jokingly croons roguishly, leaning forward so that his elbows are on the counter. Before Noctis can reply, he gestures to the cut on his cheek and the twigs in his hair. “Something tells me the tree didn’t like me climbing it though.”

Noctis peers at Prompto out of the corner of his eye, a curious smirk implanted on his face as he shakes his head. “Jeez, was that really worth it for a picture?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely!” Prompto insists with a forceful certainty that surprises Noctis. It comes out of nowhere, breaking a crack in the casual conversation, but Prompto doesn’t break Noctis’s gaze. Instead, he holds it, grinning widely.

“Gods man, the view up there is _incredible!”_ He exclaims, turning around and leaning back on the counter. For a moment, he looks up at the ceiling, but from the way he’s looking at it, Noctis feels like he’s looking at something far beyond the ceiling.

“I mean...like...I can’t really explain it...but like... _gah_ man, you’ve just gotta take my word for it; it’s great!”

Noctis softly cocks his head to one side. For some reason, he doesn’t doubt Prompto’s word in the slightest.

A small smile somehow worms it’s way between Noctis’s lips. “Alright man, good to know,” he says as he goes out the door, and he knows that Prompto can see his smile.

Noctis doesn’t see the second note Prompto slipped into his bag until later that night.

And it isn’t until Noctis leaves that Prompto finally checks the note Noctis gave him.

_it was a bird. his name was romulus._

_noctis_

**⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅**

 

“Well, you’re certainly in a good mood tonight.”

Noctis glances up from his partially eaten meal at Ignis across the table, who pauses cutting his food to look up at Noctis. His glasses gleam in the artificial light of the apartment.

Noctis scoffs and takes a bite from his fourth piece of garlic bread. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters around his bread, trying to pass off a shrug.

Ignis arches a brow. “Really?” He ventures skeptically, cutting another piece of meat and placing it in his mouth, giving himself time to chew and swallow before speaking again. Ignis never talks with his mouth full.

“Yeah, really,” Noctis insists defensively, ripping off another chunk of bread. **  
**

Ignis isn’t phased. “You were smiling at your garlic bread.”

It’s one of those times where Noctis curses having such pale skin, because when his face flushes red, it glows like a traffic light. Noctis wants to make a biting reply, but he quickly finds that his throat is filled with wet cement, so all he can do is stutter.

Ignis goes on. “You haven’t even complained about dinner yet,” he says with a rare smirk.

Even so, Noctis doesn’t take the time to cherish it. Instead, he glares down at his dinner. “What? I don’t complain about dinner.” Noctis mutters, suddenly defensive. “Can’t I just eat the food?”

“Not when it’s grilled pesto chicken with summer squash instead of grilled cheese with french fries,” Ignis replies with a knowing look. Noctis knows the look all too well; it’s the look Ignis gives when both of them know he’s right. Noctis hates that look.

Slumping down in his chair, Noctis grumbles and scrapes herbs off of his chicken. He really doesn’t want to talk about this right now. “Did you have to put all this green mushy-leafy stuff on it though?”

“It is not ‘green mushy-leafy stuff,’” Ignis replies calmly. “It is a salt-free garlic and herb seasoning blend. Take care to eat more than the garlic bread, and please, don’t change the subject.”

Noctis pretends like he doesn’t hear Ignis. Instead, he keeps talking, suddenly interested way more interested in the food. “You know, when most teens grill, they usually grill burgers and hot dogs and ribs and—”

_“Noctis.”_

Noctis winces. He hates it when Ignis uses that voice. Ignis is only two years older than him, but with the way he handles Noctis, it often feels like that age difference is far smaller than it should be.

Noctis doesn’t mind being bossed around by someone only two years older than him in the way that he would think someone would. It’s like...there’s other people, and then there’s Ignis. Ignis is like his older brother, and he has been for twelve years. He’s this pillar of stability and security.

Noctis is used to telling him everything. For some reason, he doesn’t want to tell him about Prompto though.

Sawing off a part on the edge of his chicken with the least seasoning, Noctis takes a tentative bite and glares down at the table, not meeting Ignis’s eyes.

“There. Happy?”

Ignis looks at Noctis for a long moment, then sighs and goes back to eating.

A moment of silence passes between them. Noctis only glares at the table, suddenly feeling attacked.

He doesn’t know why he’s been keeping Prompto a secret. It’s only been a week, but it’s been the most light-hearted and exciting week of what feels like his whole life. When he got home on Monday and saw the note Prompto had written on the back of his receipt, it spurred feelings in his heart that he would never admit.

_Hey Noctis! Glad you decided to come back; hope you liked the poppeck chocobo and gum! If you’re reading this, I would say there’s a pretty high probability that you came back, so I figured I would try it again!_

_Same rules as last time: answer the question, bring it into the store, get a prize. Now, have you ever fallen asleep in class?_

_—Prompto_

 

Noctis returned the following Tuesday afternoon, note for Prompto sticking out of his pocket.

 

 _oh yeah, all the time. i’ve slept through most of my classes. except for when i get caught; then i sleep in detention._ _  
_ _noctis_

 

Of course, when Noctis got home, he found another note written on the back of his receipt tucked in with the bag of chips Prompto had given him.

 

_Really? I don’t think I’ve ever actually fallen asleep in class. I don’t think I could if I tried; I’m too used to being awake. I was thinking that if I ever did though, I would try that thing where I paint my eyelids._

_And as for detention, there was this one time I got detention for putting bath bombs in the school toilets. And this other time before I got contacts when I held my glasses up to the sun and used it to burn up a weed so that I could say I was “smoking weed,” and I thought it would be a cool joke but then the weed caught on fire and the principle said I “started a fire on school grounds.” It was pretty funny, though!_

_—Prompto_

_P.S. I almost forgot the next question! What is the most illegal thing you’ve ever done?_

 

It went on like that for a week. Noctis would get a note from Prompto, answer it, and give it to him the next day at the store, where they would talk. It seemed like each time was different from the last. Each day, they would have more to talk about, and they would talk longer and longer.

Noctis thinks he laughed more this week than he had in the past fifteen years. For a while, he forgot everything. He forgot he was the prince. He forgot his responsibilities. He could just live and breathe and _be._

It was like living a second, secret life far away from the castle and everything in it. It was rebellious and intense and he loved every second of it.

For some reason, he didn’t want this life to mix with his secret life.

“You’ve been driving the car,” Ignis states abruptly, violently yanking Noctis from his thoughts.

“What?” Noctis glances up at Ignis, but he knows exactly what he said. He doesn’t even think to ask how he knows; with Ignis, there’s always some way he figures it out. It’s like a sixth sense for whenever Noctis is messing up.

Ignis scowls. “You don’t have a license,” he informs matter-of-factly. His voice is sharp and to the point, slicing through Noctis like a blade.

Noctis doesn’t meet Ignis’s gaze, and instead glowers and looks down at his chicken, which he’s finally started to eat. “I have a permit,” he mutters indignantly.

Ignis arches a blond eyebrow. “A permit and a license are not the same thing.”

Noctis feels his jaw tighten. He doesn't know why talking about it is annoying him so much. Even so, he can feel his tolerance slowly being stretched out like a rubber band, wearing away on him ever so discreetly.

“Close enough,” Noctis mutters under his breath. Ignis wasn’t meant to hear it, but from the look on his face, he certainly did.

Immediately, an unearthly blanket silence falls over the room. Noctis feels it the moment it happens, and he’s certain Ignis does too. The quiet thick and deep, burying its way through Noctis’s skin and flesh, down to his bones and filling him from the inside out.

Wordlessly, Ignis puts down his fork. The shining silverware clatters lightly onto the table. Ignis’s glasses do nothing to filter the green eyes like shards of emerald that slice into Noctis.

Instantly, a sense of foreboding slides over Noctis; the same way a child might feel when they’re about to be chewed out by a parent. Noctis has never seen Ignis lose his cool, and he doesn’t think he ever will, but sometimes the alternatives are just as bad.

“Noctis,” Ignis chides, and instantly the tension in the room increases tenfold. Immediately Noctis stiffens, his fork pausing halfway to his food, and he’s reminded of just how much he hates it when Ignis does that.

The voice he uses when he’s making everyone in the room pay attention to him; a voice that commands unbridled authority and respect. Typically Noctis doesn’t mind, but it’s times like this when he truly can’t stand it.

“Now is not the time to be acting out. I understand the stress that may come with your birthright—”

And then the band snaps.

Abruptly, Noctis stands up from the table, shooting up so fast his chair clatters behind him.

“I think I’m done,”Noctis mutters more harshly than he meant to, but even he doesn’t feel like he’s talking about his food anymore.

“Noctis—”

Whatever Ignis was about to say, Noctis will never know. Storming over to his room, Noctis slams his door behind him, shutting out the bright lights of his apartment and leaving him alone in his dark, cluttered room.

For a while, he doesn’t even do anything. Instead, Noctis throws himself onto his bed sits there in the dark, listening to Ignis as his footsteps slowly get closer and closer.

Noctis sees Ignis’s shadow under the doorframe, and immediately he tenses back up. He sits there, waiting for Ignis to talk, to tell him to unlock the door, to really do _anything._ He’s ready for it.

He can already hear Ignis’s words in his head, telling him he’s being immature and irrational, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He knows he’s not being rational, but the truth is, he doesn’t _want_ to be rational right now.

There’s no rational way to explain how he’s feeling; no logical way to explain away why he just did that. He just wants to exist and feel and _be_ without having to explain himself—are his _thoughts_ supposed to be regulated too? Does he even have a say in that anymore?

And so, Noctis sits there, waiting for Ignis to knock, to speak, to do _anything._ He’s ready for it. He doesn’t care if he’ll lose in a fight against Ignis

Instead, Ignis simply sighs and walks away.

After a moment, he sound of the sink running and the dishwasher being started up mutedly flows through Noctis’ walls.

At first, Noctis lays there, stunned. For some reason, that his him in a way he couldn’t explain, but just as quickly, he covers it up and glares.

So Ignis doesn’t want to talk? Fine. Neither does he. Noctis’ game station is still in the living room, so instead he reaches under his bed and fishes out his laptop, opening his desktop and scanning through all the games he has downloaded on there.

He scowls when he sees the game _Kings and Castles._ He doesn’t know why he ever downloaded it. On sight, Noctis dumps the game into the trash.

It must be at least forty-five minutes before Ignis leaves, as Noctis is deep in Bulletmania when he hears Ignis walking by his door.

“I put the rest of your meal in the refrigerator,” Ignis sighs. “I know it’s Friday, but please, do try and get some rest. Lock the door behind me when I leave.”

With that, Ignis’s boots click on the hardwood floors, and there’s the slow creak of the door opening and shutting. Just like that, he’s gone.

It must be another four hours that Noctis stays up playing. Because he knows when he stops playing, he’ll have to think about everything. About how he’s starting to feel bad for treating Ignis like that, which is _never_ a good feeling to have.

About the reason he lashed out, which he already knows, but he doesn’t want to admit. About _everything_ that he wants to run from, to avoid and pretend like it just isn’t there.

At 2:34 A.M, Noctis falls asleep with Bulletmania still open on his laptop.

 

**⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅**

 

Only about nine minutes away from the palace, Prompto sits on his roof. His legs dangle off the edge, point and shoot camera grasped firmly in his fingers. **  
**

His foster parents got home just an hour ago. Not even a late night for them, all things considered. They think that Prompto’s in bed right now. Or if they don’t, Prompto isn’t entirely convinced they care.

He can’t sleep. Again. Once again, as soon as he lays down his thoughts stat racing faster and faster inside his head, telling him all the good and bad situations that tomorrow could bring.

Prompto tries to only listen to the good scenarios. He knows inviting Noctis to the arcade for tomorrow as a good idea, and he isn’t going to let his own head tell him otherwise.

Still, no matter how hard he tries, the bad scenarios still slip in—like water dripping through the cracks. And when they do, it starts all over again. The dizziness, breathlessness, clenched stomach, need to get away—all of it.

His seventh grade school counselor called it an anxiety disorder. Just one more thing Prompto hated about seventh grade.

Still, this time is going to be different. He knows it. He can _feel_ it.

Lifting his camera, Prompto takes a picture of the moon over Insomnia. He thinks it’s one of his best pictures yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> above lyrics from [lemonboy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-itZVX-SUkI&list=PL1iCP1yRPJA8VqOxWQZaudAIVpeM3DVSJ&index=3) by [cavetown](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpLqtJdfhVv58cPFhRzWJlg)  
> art by [quenenie](https://quenenie.tumblr.com/)


End file.
